


Poet's Block

by Jeanisnotawinchester (theanonymousj)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Grumpy Castiel, Loving Dean, M/M, Poet - Freeform, Poetry, Writer Castiel, Writer's Block, Writers, idk what to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 15:30:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4268559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theanonymousj/pseuds/Jeanisnotawinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grumpy!Poet!Castiel and his boyfriend Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poet's Block

Castiel grumbled quietly to himself throughout the entire walk from his desk in his tiny office, down the cramped corridor that linked the rooms of his shared apartment, and into the dimly lit kitchen. Dean lay lazily across the arm chair, his book open and lying atop his chest, and his eyes half closed. Cas stopped his grumbling for a moment, inhaling the sight of his boyfriend, then return to his angry ramblings. The kettle shook violently as he tipped a ridiculous amount of coffee into an oversized mug, dissolving it immediately as he haphazardly dumped the boiling water and full fat milk on top of it. “Shit,” he spilt some of the boiling water onto his hands and thrust them under the cold tap.

Dean approached him quietly from behind, wrapping his warm arms around his waist and planting a chaste kiss just under his left ear, “What’s got you such a state, angel?” Cas sighed irritably, choosing his shroud of self-loathing over Dean’s immeasurable patience and love, “my writing is uninteresting and shit, and I can’t bring myself to get a proper job so we are going to die homeless and alone. I suggest you walk out of this apartment and use that gorgeous ass of yours for stripping. Sell yourself. Save yourself. Don’t do drugs. Wait for your brother to get a law degree and then live off whatever he makes; there’s still time for you. It’s too late for me. Go. Good luck, sweet boy.” Cas had spun out of Dean’s arms, kissed his lips, and started off down the corridor with his too-strong coffee in hand before Dean could react.

Cas was always so melodramatic.

Dean shot off after him, only to have the office door shut in his face. He opened it slowly, watching Cas get comfortable at his desk again, “Cas…? Baby, what are you writing?” Cas shifted in his seat, then wheeled it backwards. A space opened up and Cas invited Dean into it to read his ‘work.’ And Dean snatched the opportunity, flicking quickly through the millions of scraps of paper that littered the desk, squinting when Cas’s handwriting was unreadable, and then scrolled through the word document open on his laptop.

“You sure seem to have found just about every synonym for ‘green,’ Cas.” Cas grunted, because that was the one and only thing he had managed in the past four days. “And the poem… it’s really pretty good, angel. I mean, it doesn’t feel fully formed yet, but the first stanza is pretty sweet… and the second stanza just needs some editing… I don’t know why you think this is shit because I love it so far…” Cas kicked Dean’s ass out of the way and rolled back over to his work, “you’re only saying that because you want me to suck you off later.”

Dean was a pretty patient person – or at least that was how he saw himself. However, when Cas got into these moods, it really started to strain him. But he took a deep breath and kept trying to raise his boyfriend’s moral. “It’s honestly really good, maybe the best thing you’ve written since that one about the guy dying of HIV… Maybe you’re tying up too much emotion in it and then getting frustrated because you can’t express how you feel properly and eloquently.”

Well he wasn’t wrong about how Cas felt, “but this is a very passionate poem, Dean.”

“Why?”

Cas looked across the mess in front of him, reading through the phrases that stuck out; something about emeralds or peridots, and something to do with swirling oceans, and lush green grass, that weird color you get from making green tea, sprite bottles and shattered glass. Endless lists of green.

“Because it’s about you.”

Dean laughed, “Oh yeah? And how exactly am I being compared to a shrubbery? Or rave paint?”

“Your eyes, Dean. It’s a poem about your eyes.”

Of course it was: Cas was indulging himself in his true love, namely Dean’s irises. Dean didn’t mind, he decided, “Just make sure you write sequels for my freckles, lips, and ass – if you focus too hard on one beautiful thing, you might see its flaws and start to hate it.”

Cas rolled his eyes, stood up and kissed Dean, “The only problem I can find with your eyes is that they are attached to you.” He shoved Dean backwards, closing the door in his face again, and returned to his work.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos appreciated, thanks for reading xx
> 
> Comment if you want the poems mentioned in this.
> 
> I am Cas rn, I s2g my poetry vibes just aren't doing so well.


End file.
